Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(69)
“Now you wait just a minute—” My father attempted to defend my mother’s honor.
“Oh, I would shut your mouth right now if I were you, Harold. The only reason why I haven’t broken your nose is due to the fact this girl has come back breathing.” Garrett pointed to me with his eyes still locked on my father. “But believe me, I’m holding on by a thread here.” He turned his attention back to my mother.
“I’ve kept my mouth shut for most of Amy’s life. I’ve watched you ignore her, insult her, and deny her any kind of decent human affection for twenty-five years. And by some miracle she turned out to be the person she is today, in spite of having a reptile for a mother. What I will not do is stand here and watch you not only try and lay the blame on your daughter for what she went through, but ignore the reason which is standing right beside you,” he yelled, gesturing to my father. “I’ve held on to my connection to you out of necessity in order to give Amy some semblance of family, and through a misguided idea that since we’re related by blood I’m obligated to share your air.” He looked her up and down. “Now I have no such urge to ever talk to you ever again, you emotionless bitch,” he hissed, his arm still around me.
My mother gaped at Garrett before schooling her expression. “Now you’re quite done?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “The reason Amy was taken was because she was doing what she always does, acting irresponsibly.”
“You’re done,” a cold voice announced from behind me. My mother looked shocked, as if only just noticing Brock was there.
“Excuse me?”
The way she addressed him actually had me leaning forward slightly, to do what I didn’t know; maybe smash a vase over her head, but Garrett’s arms tightened around me.
“I mean you and your husband are done spouting this hateful and poisonous shit. I don’t know what kind of people you are to stand in front of your daughter days after she almost bled to death and give her as much love as I have for a suicide bomber and frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is Amy. I’m not having her near either of you for a moment longer,” Brock growled.
My father stayed silent but at least he had the good grace to look ashamed. My mother glared at him. “Is this the kind of people you hand around with, Amy?” Her voice was filled with distaste and she didn’t let me answer. “Young man, we are Amy’s parents and you cannot speak to us like that.”
“As far as I can see you’re not parents. He’s a sperm donor and you’re the f*cking incubator,”
Katherine looked at me aghast, “Are you just going to let this tattooed hooligan speak to me like that, Amy?”
“Of course not, Mother,” I replied. Katherine’s face was smug as she glared at Brock. “He left out the part where I say if I ever have to be subjected to your poisonous presence ever again I’ll make sure every last society bitch on the Upper East Side knows your all of dirty secrets, you spiteful she-devil,” I said quietly, suddenly exhausted.
Exhausted at the emotional toll my mother took on me. On the little niggling hope I had every time I saw her that some glimpse of maternal love would peek from underneath her surgically enhanced, powdered fa?ade. And the little pinpricks I felt every time I was let down. I wanted it over.
Katherine’s eyes narrowed and her face settled into a familiar look. One that meant a scathing insult was heading my way. “Well, Amy, you...”
“Don’t speak to her anymore. Actually, shut your mouth entirely. Take your fancy ass out of this house and far away from my town,” Brock interrupted my mother, stepping in front of me as if to shield me physically from verbal barbs.
I was happy to see my mother shrank away from his muscled form as he stepped closer to her. My father grasped her arm. “Come on, Katherine, let’s not cause a scene. Amy needs her rest.”
My mother looked like she was going to argue but my father’s face turned hard. She lifted her chin and a blank mask settled on her face. “Fine.” She marched out the door without a backward glance.
My father turned to Garrett, who had been watching the scene with clenched fists, although he had smirked when Brock waded in. He gave him a stiff nod.
And then, to my absolute shock, my father held out his hand to Brock who was still standing in front of me. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home,” he said quietly and sincerely.
“Didn’t do it for you,” Brock replied gruffly, ignoring the outstretched hand. “But if any more of your shit lands on Amy and hurts her in any way the next time we meet won’t be quite so civilized, no matter how much I care about your daughter.”
My father’s eyes widened, then he nodded. He turned his attention to me.
“I’m truly sorry this happened to you, Amy.” I swore his eyes were glistening as he walked out.
“Holy shit, your mom may be a MILF, Amy, but she’s a massive bitch,” Lucky declared from the corner of the room, breaking the tension in the air.
I sank into my bed, sighing at the comforting feel and familiar surroundings. This afternoon been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. After Brock had kicked my parents out we had all relaxed exponentially, thanks to the fact we could now breathe without choking on Chanel No. 5 and my mother’s disdain. Lucky and Bull had left, Lucky declaring he needed to “get so drunk I can’t see and drown in *”.